Sunset
by thewriterwhocameinfromthecold
Summary: Chapter 10 added. Before Keitaro arrives at Hinata, Kitsune starts going on pay dates to make ends meet. It was just supposed to be a job, but separating the emotional from the physical becomes harder than she thought. Meanwhile, Keitaro and Naru balance happiness and ambition, while Motoko, Su, and Shinobu learn how wonderful and terrifying it is to grow up.
1. Making the Rent

Foreword: This story has been edited from the original version in the hopes that it will meet the content requirements of this site. The original version may be found under the same title at adultfanfictiondotnet. This story contains subject matter that some may find controversial. It is meant as an honest and reverent character study; and is neither intended to bash characters nor offend readers. The views stated by characters are not necessarily those of the author.

Disclaimer: I do not own Love Hina or any of its associated characters. I am receiving no monetary compensation for this piece.

Now that all that's out of the way. I hope you enjoy my work.

1999, several months before Keitaro's arrival.

Kitsune removed the tube of lipstick from her purse. The crimson red had been a favourite of hers ever since junior high. She applied the lipstick, and gave the girl in the mirror a sulky pout followed by a sassy smirk – both weapons that she put to regular use. The right expression in the right place could be enough to rescue an evening. Satisfied with her makeup, Kitsune checked her outfit – a blue dress with shoulder straps, a plunging neckline, and a hem that ended a couple inches above the knee to showcase her long toned legs – and gave a little twirl. Perfect. She grabbed her black clutch bag and prepared to leave.

When she reached the stairs, she looked out the window behind her. It was a warm summer evening, with the sun still high in the sky. No need for a jacket. As she passed through the living room, she met her best friend Naru, just returned from her cram school. As ever, the university hopeful had her nose buried in a textbook and was taking notes, a mug tea just within reach.

"Hi, Naru," Kitsune called. "How was cram school?"

Naru gave a distracted wave and looked up slowly, reluctant to leave her studies even for a second.

"Hey, Kitsune. Not bad, I was worried about the history portion, but I think I'm starting to – Whoa!" Naru looked her friend over, and whistled appreciatively.

Kitsune smiled in appreciation. "Going out, Naru. Don't wait up."

"Got a date?" Naru asked, cradling her pencil in the top of her ear.

"Something like that," Kitsune replied with a Mona Lisa smile, and launched into her chosen cover story, "A friend of mine has a brother they want me to meet." Kitsune gave a shrug. "I owe her one, so what can you do?"

Naru raised her mug in salute. "Just don't let Motoko see you," she replied, taking a sip.

Kitsune laughed. "No kidding."

She gave her friend one last wave, as she slipped on a pair of black pumps, and headed out the door and along the front garden path towards the street.

Actually, the question of Motoko was often on Kitsune's mind at times like this. The proper, conservative, and - most importantly of all – man-hating Motoko Aoyama could barely comprehend the idea of dating, never mind what Kitsune was about to do. As such, whenever Kitsune left for an appointment like this, she made sure that Motoko was always out of the house or training on the roof. Anything to avoid lectures about the animal desires of men – not that Motoko had any first hand knowledge of desire, animal or otherwise – and the fates of the women who fell prey to them.

In the same vein, Kitsune gave thanks, as she walked towards the train station, for so open and honest a friend as Naru. Aside from the usual benefits, it made it easy for Kitsune to feed the girl lies about what she did at night. Kitsune shook her head. No, indeed, the other girls did _not _need to know that it was business rather than pleasure that made Kitsune doll up and traipse off into the evening air.

The shopkeepers were just closing up for the night as Kitsune turned onto Hinata's main street. The smells of fried squid and oden hung in the air as the restaurants prepared for the dinner rush. Kitsune inhaled the night air hungrily. As ever, there was something magical to the night life of Hinata, some enchantment that teased passersby walking among the wooden buildings that had been standing since the Meiji restoration, or longer. It was a touch stone, a place of constancy for a girl that had had precious little of it. A place she'd do anything to keep.

The train station was full of commuters coming home by the time Kitsune reached it. She darted nimbly – very nimbly for someone on high heels – through the crowd and managed to board her train to Tokyo just before the doors shut. The train to Tokyo was virtually empty at this time of day. So Kitsune happily took a window seat and watched the world fly by. She dug the slip of paper from her clutch and rechecked the meeting stop. She nodded to herself; still plenty of time to left to meet the client. He was new, and from the way he'd stammered his way through the arrangements, she was pretty sure that he was completely new. That suited Kitsune just fine. The nervous guys were easier to deal with than the assholes who acted like they owned her.

A year ago, Kitsune had been an ordinary high school senior, living at the Hinata Dorm. The year had been a joyful, raucous whirlwind of parties; but all good things had to come to an end. Her mock exam scores were pathetic, her chances of getting into university near nil, and her parents' paying her room and board was contingent on her graduating and moving onto the next level. Kitsune wasn't a bookworm. College held no interest for her. The only thing that she really felt passionate about was her writing, which she knew wasn't ready to pay the bills. She'd searched for a part time job, but despaired of finding one that pair well enough with her skill set (or lack thereof).

Then the solution came to her quite by accident. A girl by the name of Yuri Tsukamoto had become the talk of the school ever since she showed up one day carrying a designer handbag. Since Yuri had complained at length about her father's tight purse strings, all the girls were clamouring to know what the secret was. Yuri was only too happy to tell.

"I went on a few pay dates," she told the group of girls gathered around her in the locker room after gym class.

At the sound of the word 'pay', Kitsune paused untying her gym sneakers.

"What do you mean?" asked one confused girl as she buttoned up her uniform shirt.

Yuri shrugged as if it were obvious. "I registered with a phone intro service and met a few guys." She paused to adjust her skirt. "They pay me for the night and we go on dates."

Kitsune shuffled along the locker room bench, closer to the crowd.

"Men pay you to go out with them?" Yuri's friend asked.

Yuri nodded and removed her book bag from her locker. "We get dinner, go dancing, I laugh at their jokes, and I leave with the money."

Yuri's friend shut her locker and looked at the girl as if afraid to ask the next question.

"What?" Yuri asked.

Her friend looked at her shoes. "You don't like…you know?"

Yuri recoiled in disgust, swinging her book bag at her friend. "What? Eww! What kind of girl do you think I am? I just go out with them!"

"Hey," called another girl. "Don't blame her. You're the one running around with pervs with a thing for school girls."

Yuri stuck out her tongue. "You're just jealous because I had the guts to do it and you didn't."

"For how much?" Kitsune asked, trying to sound as if this were no more than locker room gossip to her.

Yuri beamed. "Twenty thousand yen for the evening! How do you like that?"

Kitsune liked that very much. A plan was already forming in her mind.

"Twenty thousand, really?" She kept her tone airy, almost mocking.

"You think I'm joking?" Yuri demanded.

Kitsune shrugged her shoulders and baited the hook. "It's just that twenty thousand seems like a lot of money for a guy to spend on a girl he's never met before. How do I know you're not just bragging?"

"Are you kidding?" Yuri held up the handbag. "If I were lying why would I have this?"

Kitsune moved in for the kill. "Then what's the telephone number?"

.

That night she found a phone booth and made the call. She received a mailbox number and keyed in a password; but by the time the automated voice told her to record an introduction, her courage deserted her and she slammed down the receiver. Afterwards, she wandered through the streets for half an hour, wrestling with herself. She wasn't doing anything wrong, after all. It was just a few dates. The butterflies in her stomach did not agree.

Later, she calmed them down with some green tea at a local café while she wrote out her introduction on a napkin. Afterwards she crossed the street to a nearby phone booth and dialled the number. She keyed in her PIN number, and looked around self-consciously unable to shake the feeling that passersby could sense her intent. Then the tone indicating she should started, and she smiled into the receiver as she read off the napkin:

"Hello, boys," she had purred. "I'm Kitsune, your sexy, sassy schoolgirl from Osaka."

She hoped that there'd be someone out there looking for something other than just another girl from Tokyo. She'd decided to use her own nickname so she wouldn't have to remember to respond to another name. Besides, it was just a nickname. She couldn't be the only girl in Japan that used it.

"I'm eighteen," she lied, "and I'm looking for a generous, handsome gentleman to take me out and show me my new city." Yuri had mentioned that the word 'generous' was a sign for guys looking for pay dates.

Kitsune took a deep breath. Time to start selling. "I'm 5'3 with long" – she drew out the word long – "legs and I look great in my school uniform. Especially since my chest started filling out." She forced herself to giggle in a way that she hoped sounded genuine. She took on a lost little girl voice. "I'm really lonely in this great big city all by myself. I hope there are some boys out there who want to have a good time." Yuri had told everyone that being suggestive without being specific was the way to go. Kitsune perked her voice up as she prepared for the finale. "So if you think that you can handle me, give me a call!"

Then she hung up.

.

The train came to a stop, and Kitsune disembarked, shuffling past the vast groups of people towards the stairs. Coming from Hinata to the crowds of Tokyo was always disorienting. She had a few minutes to meet the client in the square outside. Over the phone, he'd given his name as Shirai, and he'd sounded so nervous and out of his element that Kitsune was tempted to believe that it was his real name. He'd sounded young on the phone, around her age maybe. Definitely different from the salarymen and college guys she was used to dealing with.

Oh, well. Variety was the spice of life, and it would be nice to meet with someone off their game with no expectations. For once there would be no doubt about who was in control; and if thee was one thing Kitsune liked, it was being in control. She mounted the last of the stairs. Whoever this Shirai was, he was about to have an evening he'd never forget.


	2. The Boy at the Train Station

The square was packed with the usual office crowd making their way to and fro, intent on spending the weekend with their families. A few vendors sold cheap t-shirts and other knick knacks for passing tourists. One man was selling volumes of self-published manga. Kitsune made her way to the big clock in the centre where she'd arranged to meet her new client. She always used public places for first timers. She'd learned that lesson the hard way when she'd shown up at a new client's apartment. Even from the doorway she could see five guys sitting behind the man who answered the door. She'd claimed to have the wrong apartment and ran off before anyone could say anything. The episode had frightened her so badly that she refused to take any dates for a month after. In the meantime, she'd gotten Motoko to teach her some basic self-defence. After that, only trusted clients got apartment visits.

Kitsune leaned against the big clock as she kept a trained eye out for her new boy. He'd described himself as short with glasses, and had told her that he'd be wearing jeans with a grey blazer. No sign so far.

"Um…" Kitsune turned at the sound to face a man standing just behind her on the other side of the clock. "Are you Kitsune?" he asked.

Kitsune looked him over. The man _was_ short; shorter than her, in fact, by a couple inches. He scratched at the back of his neck as he looked up at her through thick lenses whose roundness accentuated his baby-faced expression. His hair was long in the back, reaching past his ears. His belly rounded just outwards, but not enough to be considered fat, nor enough to turn her off completely. Many of the men who had taken Kitsune out had some issue that they must have felt took them out of the running in the regular dating world; but if Kitsune ever felt anything about making money off of low male self-esteem, she wasn't aware of it.

She gave him a warm smile. "Hi," she cooed like sugar wouldn't melt in her mouth. "You must be Shirai."

He looked away as if his name were a source of personal embarrassment. "Um…Yeah."

"So," she asked, ignoring his embarrassment, "where are we going?"

Shirai stuck his hands in his pockets. "Have you eaten?"

"No."

The boy smiled in relief. "Great. I was thinking we could get some dinner."

"Excellent," Kitsune replied. "Lead the way."

He nodded and started off down the street, nearly jumping out of skin when she grabbed hold of his arm. Part of Kitsune thrilled at the effect her very presence was having on this frightened young man. She was a beautiful young woman, and knew very well the effect she had on most men; but not even her other first-timers had acted like this. Could this be his first date, she wondered. For that matter, was he still a virgin? Kitsune felt a forbidden thrill as she considered the possibilities. She felt powerful.

Regardless, Kitsune resolved that she was going to have fun tonight. A quick look at Shirai's clothes indicated that he wasn't rich, and the idea that he'd turn into Casanova as the evening wore on was laughable; but she was still determined to have fun. Even if she wasn't going to be swept off her feet, she could at least get what enjoyment she could from teasing him to death.


	3. Everyone is Nervous the First Time

After Kitsune had recorded her introduction, she'd checked her mailbox daily for a week without as much as a nibble. After that she went a few days without. She'd managed to get a few extra yen from an article about a local band that had played in a few manga cafes. For a while she'd been prepared to toss the whole idea as just another moneymaking scheme that never took off; but like always, the money ran dry and she decided to keep all her options open.

To her surprise, there were two messages waiting for her. The first was from a guy who called himself Kenzo. His voice and attitude was pure high school:

"Hey sweetheart. Really liked your message. You got a hot voice. Hope you got a body to go with it. Name's Kenzo, and I'd love…" Whatever else he might have said went unheard as Kitsune deleted the message in disgust.

She almost felt too disheartened by Kenzo to even listen to the second; but she forced herself to listen after reminding herself how soon rent day was.

"Hello." The man had a rich baritone, and warm as if he were greeting an old friend. "You can call me Sakamoto. I'm looking for a lady to pass the evening with. Perhaps that lady is you? I enjoy good food, good company, and I'm told I'm very generous. Call me back if you're interested.

It took a shot of sake and a few failed attempts at scripting her reply, but after half an hour, Kitsune did manage to leave a message in Sakamoto's mailbox suggesting a date. Waiting for a reply turned out to be a nightmare. The fear that she'd be caught and the guilt over what she was planning kept her away every night until the fateful Friday. Lying in the dark she tormented herself with questions like 'What if he's a scumbag or a gangster?', 'What if he doesn't like me?', or 'What if he wants more than just company?'

Somehow she managed to go to and from school with Naru everyday without confessing the whole thing. Of course, Naru was too obsessed with bringing up her grades for the entrance exams next year, and to busy drooling over her tutor Seta to notice her friend's disquiet. Seta, now there was a name that gave Kitsune pause. What would the guy she'd been crushing on say if he knew what she was planning? The question earned a bitter chuckle. Seta would have to leave that hazy dream world made up of dusty volumes and mythic artefacts in order to have a clue about Kitsune and her troubles. In the end, Kitsune suspected giving up Seta for Naru's sake had been the best idea she'd ever had. So fixated were they on their studies that they made a perfect pair.

After days of agonising, Kitsune decided to deal with her problems that same way she always dealt with them, alone; and she did so by throwing on a black dress, some strappy sandals and a spritz of the perfume that Haruka Urashima had given her for her birthday. She threw back a shot of sake and headed to the pub where she and Sakamoto had agreed to meet.

Her nerves got the better of her the moment she arrived and saw that it was full of people coming and going, and she realized that she had no idea what Sakamoto looked like beyond a vague description. She gave a weak nod to the proprietor's call of welcome as she stepped under the banner over the door and inside. Salarymen and college students sat side by side, captivated by the baseball game as the Yokohama BayStars led the Hanshin Tigers three to one in the bottom of the third. At the far end of the room, bartenders were pouring beer and cooks prepared sushi side by side.

She wondered if she should ask at the counter; but she only had the name Sakamoto, which could well have been an alias. After some fretting, she decided to grab a seat at the bar. He could find her. After all, she was the one doing the selling. She grabbed a stool and ordered a soda. Her fingers nervously drummed against her purse as she tried to distract herself by watching the baseball game on TV. By the top of the fourth Hanshin was at bat and Kitsune felt ready to give up; but just then, she felt she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see a tall slim man with large square framed glasses. He wore a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, with charcoal slacks and a navy tie. While not expensive, they gave him an air of professionalism that his job undoubtedly required – a salaryman, perhaps, or a teacher.

"Are you Kitsune?" he asked.

"Sakamoto?"

He nodded. "I've got a booth over there," he pointed.

She followed him to the booth in the corner and sat down across from him.

"Would you like a drink?" Sakamoto asked.

She nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak.

Sakamoto called for a waiter and ordered a beer, and Kitsune murmured that she'd have the same.

"You look nervous," Sakamoto observed after the waiter had gone. "I don't frighten you do I?" he asked with a reassuring smile.

Kitsune shook her head, returning the smile.

"You look very pretty," he told her.

Other girls might have blushed at such an earnest compliment from a handsome older man, but not Kitsune. Rather, the compliment helped her regain her confidence. She was in familiar territory once again. Many men had told her she was pretty, and she knew from experience exactly what that prettiness could make men do.

Her smile ceased to be tentative. "Thank you. You have the envelope?" According to Yuri, the best way to get paid was in an unmarked envelope.

Sakamoto nodded, and reached into his pocket.

"Pass it under the table," Kitsune told him.

Once he had done so, she followed the next part of Yuri's instructions: stuffed the envelope in her purse and left for the bathroom. She locked herself into a stall and counted the money. She realized with a giggle that this was the easiest twenty thousand yen she had ever made. It occurred to her that she could walk right out of the pub without him noticing; but the more she thought about it, the more she decided that Sakamoto seemed like a good man. Besides, if she stuck around, there was probably a dinner in the offing.

She returned to the table just as the waiter was laying their beers onto the table. The potentially deadly equation of unattended alcohol and strangers flashed through her mind, and she resolved to get the money before the drink order the next time.

"Kampai." Sakamoto raised his glass in toast.

They sat and drank, and talked the light inconsequential talk of strangers. They ate their way through several platters of tempura as Kitsune giggled at Sakamoto's jokes and she impressed him with her heart felt analysis of Kokoro, which she'd been reading for school.

It seemed so normal that Kitsune began to feel like she was on a normal date; but no sooner did that thought occur then she remembered the money in her purse. As the beer coaxed her into a warm and fuzzy relaxation, Kitsune became determined to ignore the money, ready to grasp at anything that would make this feel like something other than a transaction.

She reached across the table and grabbed Sakamoto's hand. "Hey, what do you say we get out of here and find some place fun?" she asked, running her index finger over his hand in sensual patterns.

"Sure." Sakamoto seemed surprised. "Where to?"

'Where to' turned out to be a music club that Kitsune had been to with her friends. Softly lit and with dark furniture, the place screamed hideaway. The drinks were cheap and the live music wasn't bad; but the real reason Kitsune chose it was the series of pool tables that sat between the dance floor and the bar.

Sakamoto gave the cue in his hand an unsure glance. "It's been a while for me," he confessed.

Kitsune smirked as she chalked up and lined up her break shot. "Don't worry. I hear it's just like riding a bike."

Sakamoto snorted. "If you say so."

His jaw dropped as Kitsune's shot shattered the triangle and set a pair of stripes into opposing corner pockets.

"I'm glad we're not playing for money."

"We're not?" Kitsune pouted.

Sakamoto gave her a look. "After that shot? Not a chance."

Kitsune snapped her fingers in mock disappointment. "Darn. If I'd played dumb, I could have fleeced you all night."

"You already…" Sakamoto stopped himself, and bent down to take his shot. He sunk two easy solids before he missed and backed away from the table, still looking at his feet.

"Good shot." Kitsune smiled to let him know she wasn't upset.

For some reason, Kitsune felt better knowing that the money was a sticking point for Sakamoto as well. She lined up her next shot and took it.

A few minutes later they were well into their second game, with Sakamoto smarting from one loss and heading towards a second.

"Want me to help you?" Kitsune asked.

Sakamoto looked at her, then the table, then the cue in his hand, and back at her. "Any advice would be helpful."

An imp of mischief seized Kitsune and she decided to try something she'd seen guys try with their girlfriends.

"Line up your shot," she told him.

Sakamoto did so, aiming for the number two ball balanced precariously against the corner pocket.

"Okay," Kitsune instructed, for this shot, you're going to want to be gentle. Too much force and you'll knock the cue ball in with it." She leaned flush against him and placed her hands over his.

"A smooth and steady motion," she told him as her cheek rested against his shoulder.

As one, they drew back the cue and gently struck the cue ball. It rolled forward, slow but true, and tapped the two ball in. Sakamoto craned around to look at Kitsune leaning against him. They shared a smile.

"Care for a drink?" Sakamoto asked.

One drink became two, and then three. By then, Kitsune was feeling mellow, happy, and increasingly attracted to the square jaw line of the man across from her. The rules she had set for herself began to matter less as Sakamoto leaned across the table to move her hair back.

"I'm glad I met you," he told her. "You're very beautiful."

As he withdrew his hand, Kitsune held it in place and leaned into the warmth.

Sakamoto watched her for a long time before he leaned in. He move slowly, his eyes on hers, watching for any sign of rejection before bringing his lips to hers. Kitsune's eyes glided shut as she kissed him back. Had she been sober, she would have pulled back. If playing pool hadn't been so fun, she wouldn't have agreed to drink with him. If he hadn't been so charming at dinner, she would have ended the date back at the pub. If she hadn't needed the money, she'd have ignored Yuri because she wasn't that type of girl. But as their lips met, the last of those dominoes came crashing down. When she pulled back she knew she couldn't let the evening end with a kiss and neither could he.

"Do you want to go somewhere private?" Sakamoto asked.

A hot knot twisted in Kitsune's stomach as she nodded.

It seemed she was that type of girl after all.


	4. Taking the Lead

"Is this all right?" Shirai asked.

Kitsune followed his finger. Most men, when they took her out, tried to impress her by taking her someplace fancy. As if she could have cared. Oh, she'd act impressed – she was paid to – but for all her love of money and get rich quick schemes, Kitsune liked simple cooking as much as haute cuisine. Clients who made the cut learned, quickly, that the way into her good graces was not through her stomach. So, when a deeply embarrassed Shirai led her to a noodle house, she surprised him by nodding and taking the lead as they walked inside.

It was a small family place, four or five tables. The couple were seated in the centre of a crowd of students and labourers looking for some cheap, good comfort food. The mouth-watering aroma of frying onions and garlic wafted in from the kitchen behind the front counter.

After the hostess had seated them, Kitsune decided to get the preliminaries out of the way. "Envelope?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"You have the envelope we talked about?"

"Oh, right." Shirai fumbled with his coat.

"Pass it under the table.

He did and Kitsune made her usual trip to the bathroom.

She considered the situation as she thumbed through the bills with practiced ease. She'd have to take the lead. That much was obvious. She suspected that she had been more right than she'd realized about this being Shirai's first time. These seemed less like the nerves of a man still a virgin, and more like those of a guy on his first date all together. A hot little thrill trilled its way down Kitsune's spine. If her hunch proved right…

She licked her lips as she left the stall and strolled towards the bathroom mirror. She tossed her blonde bob back, smoothed out her dress, pressed her breasts together, and strolled back to her table with a smile that could melt metal. The preliminaries were out of the way, and Kitsune was open for business.

As they studied their menus and ordered drinks, Kitsune kept the conversation light, discussing movies as she often did during a first meeting. No religion, no politics, and no personal questions. As their beers arrived, Kitsune coaxed Shirai gently along her garden path with small talk, jokes, and flirtatious comments. She worked to get him used to her physically by touching his wrist when she came to a certain point in a story, and brushing his hand as she removed hers and moved onto the next story. Shirai stiffened the first couple of times, as she'd suspected he would. She pretended not to notice, and eventually he grew accustomed to that touch, at which point she moved to the next level. The touches lasted longer and grew more daring. She thrilled every time he began to stutter when she tried something new. Keep him from running scared, but keep him guessing, that was the name of the game.

By the time their food had arrived, Kitsune had just begun running the back of her foot along Shirai's lower leg. To her surprise, she found herself enjoying the situation more than expected. The games she played were fun, as they always were; but she was surprised to learn, as dinner progressed, how much she actually liked the man across from her. Months of enduring rich kids and arrogant business men had led her to develop a clinical attitude towards first-timers who came and went like the seasons. One of the reasons she usually took the lead with one of her many memorized conversation pieces was that it allowed her to recede, view things from a distance, and adjust her strategy as the evening went on. It allowed her to tolerate the boring talk of company finances and the mind-numbing bragging about racquetball scores with much better grace.

Shirai, as he stumbled through stories about his part time job working at a bookstore and the days he spent at his cram school, was refreshingly sincere. There was no bragging as he spoke frankly, almost self-deprecatingly, about his struggles to get into university. Nor was there any of the usual fishing for compliments as he talked about the books he read or his latest test score. He was, by all appearances, a normal twenty-something. A twenty-something terrified of women, but even that was endearing in its own way; and not just because of the opportunity it gave her for sport. The effort he put into looking her in the eye, the blushes as she patted him on the knee, and the flustered expression he got when he caught himself staring her chest (as she'd intended, of course), spoke a lot louder than the perfunctory compliments and bouquets that other clients had heaped upon her.

Kitsune waited to strike until their plates were cleared. "This is your first date, right?" she asked.

Shirai made a small choking sound as a glimmer of fear appeared in his eyes. "Why do you ask?"

Kitsune patted his hand as she gave him a reassuring smile. "No judgment," she soothed. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. It's just that you've been so nervous," she slid her right foot out of its shoe, "that I thought I could give you a hand." She gave him a frank look. "Would you like me to take the lead?" she asked, sliding her foot up a slow path from Shirai's ankle to his knee.

Her smile widened as he started to pant. "Do you want me to teach you," she slid her foot along his inner thigh, "all those little secrets that you've been dying to learn?" She brushed the sole of her foot against his crotch already made hard by her ministrations.

Shirai stifled a yelp.

Kitsune raised the boy's hand to her lips as she asked, "Is that a yes?" She swirled her tongue around the tip of is index finger.

Shirai wheezed something that sounded liked 'please'.

'Victory complete,' Kitsune thought as she stuck the finger in her mouth, giving it a long slow suck all the way down to the knuckle.

"You pay for the food," she told him, rising from her seat. "I'll meet you outside. Then she sashayed out of the restaurant, making sure that Shirai was watching every wiggle.


	5. Checking In

Kitsune felt her body hum as she led Shirai down the street. True to her word, she'd taken control of the situation the moment Shirai emerged from the restaurant. In a few blocks, they'd arrive at a love hotel she'd used previously. It was too bad that Shirai was so short, she thought, as she felt the urge to whisper to him all the things she could do for him; all the little tricks that would put fire in his dreams until he died; tricks that Sakamoto had taught her. She shook her head to clear it. She had Shirai where she wanted him. No point in scaring him off by going to far.

She had to calm down. She was going off script. She never took first time clients to a hotel, and she could never remember being this excited about it. Only clients who made the cut after at least one get to know you date made anywhere near this point. Either they understood that being her client meant a vetting session, or she said 'fuck it' and move on. There were plenty of other guys with the necessary patience.

But for the first time in a long time, Kitsune didn't want to wait. An honest to God virgin had landed right in her lap! She could see his life in her mind: a down on his luck student trying to make a go of it who probably lived with his mom who had always taught him to be a gentleman. The picture was so tantalising that Kitsune felt herself begin to get damp.

'I'll take good car of your son, Mrs. Shirai. I'll take such good care of him.'

"Here we are!" she sang as they arrived at the discreet building that betrayed its purpose only by the brass plaque proclaiming the rates for rests and overnight stays.

"Don't worry," she whispered in his ear when she felt him stiffen. "The staff have seen a lot worse than you or me walk through these doors. Just leave the talking to me."

She led him through the sliding door into the muzak filled lobby. Kitsune prided herself on her taste, so the lobby – dotted with plant pots and a few prints of island life – held some sophistication. The girl at the front desk was wearing a uniform and a professional smile.

Kitsune returned it. "We'd like a room for a rest."

"How long will you be staying?"

"A couple hours," Kitsune replied and looked over at Shirai. He looked like a fish out of water. She elbowed him. "Pay her, would you sweetie?"

Shirai dumbly fished out his wallet and laid down a wad of bill. The clerk made change without comment and presented Kitsune with a keycard.

"The elevators are to your right," the girl informed them. "Have a nice stay."

Kitsune gave a wave as she called out, "Thanks!" and dragged Shirai to the elevator. "Quit looking like that," she admonished, "People are going to think I kidnapped you."

'Liar, she thought to herself, 'You love this.'

She waited until the elevator doors closed behind her and pounced, breaking a rule she hadn't broken since Sakamoto: she grabbed him by the shoulders and pinned him to the wall, slamming her lips against his.

Shirai's lips were lifeless as he stood paralysed without a clue what to do. Expecting this, Kitsune teased her tongue over his lips as she ran her hand down his stomach and against his crotch. At the slightest touch, Shirai's mouth opened with a groan, and Kitsune seized her opportunity. Her tongue sought out his, caressing it playfully as she ran her hand up and down his length, thrilled by the feel of it hardening in her hand.

She withdrew her tongue slowly and he sought her out, unable to bear the lost contact. She coaxed him out until he entered her mouth, and then pressed her body to his, sucking on his tongue with a wanton moan.

She could do whatever she wanted now, she knew. She could unzip him and suck him off right here in the elevator, and he'd let her. She could fuck him up against the wall until both their legs gave out, and he'd let her. She could trip his legs, sit on his face, and demand he lick her, and he would; but she forced the pulsing demand of her hungry pussy to yield for a few minutes longer as the elevator announced their arrival. As the doors slid open, she released Shirai who looked like he'd run a marathon and won the lottery all on the same day.

"Come on." She coaxed his rubbery form into the hallway. "It gets better inside."


	6. Losing It

"This wasn't what I was expecting," Shirai spoke his first complete sentence in a while as he looked around the room.

"You were expecting a heart shaped bed with red satin sheets?" Kitsune joked.

Shirai gave her a sheepish smile. "Kind of. Yeah."

Instead, the room looked like most other single hotel rooms: a bed dominated the centre of the room facing a TV, which Kitsune knew was hooked up to a twenty four hour porn channel for those who wanted a little extra stimulus. Next to the bed was a side table laden with the usual soaps, towels and shampoos. In addition the concierge had been thoughtful enough to leave a selection of condoms and lubricants. Kitsune picked up one of the condoms. Cherry flavoured; her favourite.

The only other thing that set the place apart from your average hotel room was the screen of frosted glass that separated the bedroom and the bathroom's king-sized shower.

Kitsune turned to Shirai. "Why don't you take a quick shower, and we can get started?" she suggested.

"Oh, okay." Shirai started towards the bathroom door, but stopped at the sight of the frosted glass.

Kitsune wrapped her arms around him from behind. "Do what I say and I'll give you a night you'll never forget," she promised.

"As if I could," Shirai mumbled as he walked through the door.

Kitsune giggled and waited until she heard the water running. She watched Shirai climb into the shower and begin to scrub himself down as she began to disrobe. She hadn't intended to go this far, so she hadn't taken some of her usual measures. She'd foregone a bra when she'd chosen her dress, and she'd chosen a plain pair of panties instead of something a little sexier. Often, she liked to afford a client the opportunity of removing her underwear like a gift being unwrapped. The idea made her feel special.

'Next time,' she thought as she slid out of the dress and kicked off the cotton panties. She still wished she'd worn a bra. 'After all,' she reasoned, 'every guy needs practice.'

Naked as the day she was born, she started for the bathroom. She pinched her nipples and ran a hand over her baby smooth snatch. Good thing she'd gotten a wax the other day. Her pussy lips had already begun to swell and grow moist with anticipation. She turned the knob without a sound and tiptoed into the bathroom. Shirai continued to scrub himself with his back to her, oblivious. He was not handsome; and Kitsune suspected that would be the case even if he lost the spare tire around his waist. Still he was a gentleman; and a humble earnest nature could be a turn on for a woman who was used to dealing with sleazier guys.

Shirai doused his head under the spray, and Kitsune charged forward with a grin. She took no notice of the warm spray as she snuck up behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest. A thrill travelled all the way down to her groin as he yelped at her touch.

"Hey, lover." She planted a kiss on his shoulder. "Got lonely without you."

Any other man would have had her up against the wall by now, but Shirai just tensed. His hands remained motionless by his side. Kitsune smothered a groan. Teasing was fun and all, but she shouldn't have to work this hard just to get a guy to touch her back. Just who was the man here anyway?

She forced her irritation aside, and brought her hands to his shoulders, turning him to face her. If he needed seducing, she'd give it everything she had. Shirai's eyes bulged as he caught sight of her nude form. Kitsune smiled her best 'fuck me' smile as she ran her hands over her hips, up her taut stomach, and under her D cups.

"I'm all wet," she pouted. "Care to help me towel off?"

Without waiting for his answer, she tugged him out of the shower, casting a quick glance downward. Shirai's cock was as hard as an iron bar. Kitsune licked her lips as she watched it pulse in time with his heartbeat. She pulled him towards the bathroom sink, grabbed a lily white towel off the counter, and placed it in his hand. Taking him by the wrist, she raised it towards her head, almost demanding that he touch her.

Gently, almost too gently, the boy lifted it to her face and brushed away the stray water droplets. Kitsune shut her eyes and breathed a sigh that was only half for show. Shirai seemed, then, to discover some hidden bravery, for he stepped behind her towelled off her hair with the utmost care before moving down to her neck, and down her shoulders. Kitsune leaned into the touch with a sigh, wishing that his hands were touching her rather than a towel as he rubbed maddening circles across her back.

She blinked at the motion ended at the small of her back.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Shirai gave no answer, simply stared down the path that awaited him, at the curve of her ass. She heard him swallow as he dropped to his knees and rubbed the towel against her behind, giving each cheek a thorough drying. Still he did not touch her.

Kitsune moaned. Was he dense, or was there more to Shirai than met the eye? He had to know what he was doing to her, what this would do to almost any woman. No, that much timidity couldn't be an act.

'If I'm not careful, I'll be wind up being the one seduced,' she thought as she fought against the urge to scream "Touch me!"

She bit into her knuckle as he brought the towel around to her right hip and began wiping down her leg. That was it! Kitsune jerked Shirai up, ripped the towel from his hand, and flung it across the room. She took his hand and slammed it onto her aching breast. Something – fear or perhaps gentleman's instinct – made Shirai try to jerk his hand away, but Kitsune was having none of it. She held him fast, letting out an unabashed moan as instinct made him squeeze her, and leaned down to give him a panting kiss.

"That's right," she whispered against his lips. "Keep going."

She released her hold on his hand – noting with pleasure that it stay where it was – and pulled herself flush against him. Shirai's free hand curled round the small of her back, but she pushed it lower until he got the message and cupped her ass. Her tongue found his again and they fell into a rhythm that made Kitsune feel like she was in high school again, stealing kisses behind the auditorium. It had been so long that she realized that she'd forgotten how good it felt just to make out with a guy.

That was until she reminded herself, as she began to grind herself against his hip, that there was more on the menu. She reached down to grasp his manhood. Shirai let out a groan of arousal and panic; but he was too engrossed by Kitsune's tongue and tits to deny her as her practiced hand went to work. Shirai's panting grew more desperate, and Kitsune knew that it wouldn't be long. Not satisfied with this, she pulled back from the kiss and smirked at his disappointment as she released him.

"Come with me," she told him, leading him back to the bedroom. She left him standing in the doorway, and grabbed a cherry condom from the nightstand. She ripped it open, and knelt before Shirai with a grin, thankful for the plush carpet beneath her: much easier on the knees.

Shirai may have been a blushing virgin, but he wasn't ignorant. "You don't have…" he started to say.

"I know," Kitsune cut him off, "But I want to anyway."

She placed the rolled up condom between her lips. Shirai shuddered as if in pain as Kitsune rolled the condom down to his base, deep enough to bury her nose in his damp pubic hair. She smelled shampoo. She tightened her lips and sucked deeply as she went back the way she came, punctuating her journey with a kiss. She stroked Shirai to make sure the condom was on properly, and gave him a smouldering look as he stared back in dazed awe.

Shirai's breath hitched as Kitsune hummed a little tune to herself as she worked, driving him to the brink.

"Please!" he begged with a whisper, "Please!"

'Put that way,' Kitsune thought, 'How can I resist?'

She abandoned any pretence of restraint. The power of the fellatrix was a heady cocktail when the recipient was submissive enough; and that power made her ache with longing. If Kitsune didn't have his head between her legs in the next minute, she'd scream. As she redoubled her efforts, Shirai arched. He was grunting, almost growling.

'That's right, baby.' Kitsune thought. 'Come on!'

Shirai erupted with a high groan, and Kitsune withdrew, watching his face contort.

When Shirai's moans dissolved into heavy breathing, Kitsune glanced at the full condom, and grinned up at up at him. "Way to go, Tiger!"

Shirai gave her a weak smile. She handed him a towel and collapsed upon the bed while the dazed boy cleaned himself off. When Shirai was finished, he looked up to see Kitsune lying on the bed.

She crooked her finger. "Lesson Two," she called out, her calm voice belying the pounding of her heart and the aching that longed to be soothed.

Shirai stepped towards on unsteady legs, as if chained to iron weights; but the fear was gone from his eyes, only a bewildered eagerness.

Kitsune giggled at Shirai's wobbling gait until he fell into bed beside her. "Wow, Tiger. I guess I'll take that as a compliment."

She lay back with her hands behind her head. She couldn't have been more on display if she were lying on a silver platter with a bow around her neck. Shirai sat frozen as his eyes flickered over her. As the silence began to mount, Kitsune realized her mistake. She pushed herself up and grasped the back of Shirai's head to pull him in for a kiss. When she pulled back, she pushed his head down until he was inches from her moist slit.

"You ever read about this before?" Kitsune asked. A guy like him had to have read at least one dirty book.

"Uh huh." Shirai nodded under her hand.

"You remember what comes next?"

"You do."

Kitsune's eyebrows shot up. "Did you just make a joke?"

Shirai appeared to consider this. "I guess so."

"You remember what to do?"

Shirai gave her a sheepish look as if to say that his recall rate had ended up in the condom.

"All right." Kitsune adopted a professorial tone as she prepared to explain the finer points of foreplay, and quickly before her ardour cooled. "How to please a woman, Lesson One: who can name the main erogenous zones on the female body?" Without waiting for an answer, she pointed to her mouth. "Lips." She pointed at her chest. "Nips." She pointed at her groin. "Pussy and clit."

She pointed at Shirai. "Lesson Two: a man has a vast arsenal with which to please a woman, of which his dick is only one." She grinned. "What are they?"

Shirai shook his head with a small smile, clearly enjoying the game.

Kitsune leaned forward and kissed him hard. "Mouth," she gasped against his lips. She invaded his mouth with her tongue, drawing his out and sucking on it before pulling back. "Tongue."

She brought his palm to her lips and kissed it. "Hands." Her tongue darted out to run up one side of his index finger and down the other before giving it a quick suck." "Fingers."

She released his hand. "Lesson Three: different combinations yield different results. What works at one time, or with one woman, may not work with another. The point is to experiment and have fun. This," she intoned as she lay back, "concludes the theoretical portion of the course." She gave him a smutty look. "Lesson Four: field work."

Shirai didn't need to be told twice. It was if he had been waiting all night just for her to give him permission, because no sooner was it given then he sprang forward. Kitsune cried out in surprised delight as he landed beside her and his lips latched onto her right nipple. Kitsune held his head in place, her fingers threading through his hair.

"Mmm…Good boy. Teachers love an eager student. Not so hard now. You don't want to bruise them. Don't forget the other one," she told him, as her voice turned throaty. "A gentleman never neglects those in his care. Oh! What a good boy you are!"

Minutes began to tick by as Kitsune basked in the fruits of her labour, occasionally whispering tips and encouragements as Shirai worshiped at her breasts. His amateurism showed. He'd squeeze or suck too hard, or accidentally scrape her nipple with his teeth. Ever the gentleman, however, he was clearly willing to do what it took to get her off; and he had common sense enough not to treat her nipples like knobs. Not all men were so sensible.

After a while, though, the rising ache began to frustrate her. She tugged gently at the boy's hair until he looked up.

"Other areas need your attention," she informed him, and started to push his head down.

Shirai rose to shuffle over and settle between her legs. He gave her an uncertain look. Kitsune saw the question in his eyes.

"Want another lesson?" she asked.

Shirai nodded.

"Okay." Kitsune searched her mind for a good example. "Think of it as if you were giving me a kiss. Remember how we were kissing earlier? Give that a try."

Shirai looked sceptical, but followed instructions. Kitsune felt a gratifying jolt.

"Nnn, that's good."

Her hand came to rest on top of his head.

'Shirai,' she thought, 'I may just have to keep you.'

It never went like this, she thought, as she played with herself. Foreplay never lasted this long with a client. She wouldn't let her. Sex was good, but the men she saw weren't her lovers. They were clients. She'd never let herself feel the pleasure fully, much less let it make her come; but tonight she was slowly surrendering to the tender ministrations of a man as ordinary as miso soup.

"Keep going. Keep going, please," Kitsune squeaked. If Shirai just…Yes!

Kitsune's hips rocketed off the bed as a star exploded inside her. A wave washed over her from head to toe, carrying her off into a beautiful oblivion.

"Oh," Kitsune gasped out a sobbing chuckle. "Oh fuck."

She pulled him up and clung to him as shivers wracked her body. She gave him a deep kiss, moaning as she tasted herself on him. The last of the shivers faded away, and she pulled back to look at him with a tired, loopy smile.

"A+," she told him. "You'll be ready for the advanced classes in no time.

With a sudden burst of energy, she pushed him off of her, leapt off the bad and grabbed another condom from the nightstand.

"Ready to become a man?" She looked down at Shirai's returned erection. "I guess so. You know how to put one on?"

Even in 1999, some guys didn't have a clue.

Shirai nodded, and ripped open the package. Kitsune shook her head with amusement as he turned away from her to put the condom on. When he turned around, she led him to bed, jumped back onto the bed with a giggle and held out her arms in welcome. Shirai stared down at her with a mixture of adoration and terror as he lay on top of her, pausing to adjust himself so he could get as close as possible.

"So, how should I…" Shirai stumbled on the crucial word.

"Some girls can take the first push better than others," Kitsune told him, cupping his cheek. "Best policy is to go slow and see how she reacts."

She gave him a playful tug.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

Shirai pushed his hips forward, and hissed. Kitsune sighed as she felt a sense of completion, a fulfillment of a desire that had grown inside her ever since she had found out about Shirai's virginity.

He looked up at her, a question in his eyes. Kitsune nodded. Shirai forged ahead until he bottomed out, a look of wonder on his face.

"How does it feel?" Kitsune asked.

"Give me a minute," Shirai sounded far away, on some other spiritual plane.

Kitsune envied him the feeling, wondering when fucking had become just fucking to her. Her inability to share in the moment made her uncomfortable, so she sought to end it.

"It gets better," she promised. "Want to see?"

The words were enough to make Shirai rejoin the living. He pulled back, his eyes widened at the feeling. He began to move slowly, tasting and savouring the new sensations; and checking Kitsune's face all the while for any signs of discomfort. Somewhere inside, Kitsune felt a twinge. Part of her wanted to weep at the tenderness of it all.

She let out a breathy chuckle. "Mmm…Yummy."

She clutched him close to her, stroking his back and tracing random patterns in his hair as Shirai kept going and placing kisses on her collar bone.

'Definitely keeping him,' Kitsune thought.

She suppressed a giggle as she imagined trying to keep Shirai in her room, secretly, like a stray cat.

'Nah, Motoko'd turn him into sashimi.'

"Kitsune?" Shirai's hesitant voice broke through her daydream.

"Huh?"

"It's just…" Shirai forced himself to look her in the eye. "My arms are about to give out. Sorry. Would you mind…" he trailed off.

This time Kitsune did laugh. He was just too cute.

"Sure," she told him with a kiss on the forehead. "Get up and roll over."

Shirai withdrew and lay beside Kitsune on his back. She sat up and climbed on top of him. A feral power flowed through her as she gazed down at Shirai.

"You're going to remember this for the rest of your life," she told him before she sank down with a happy moan.

This was what Kitsune lived for, the reason she listened to all the boring shop talk and the arrogant bragging: the power of being on top. Rich or poor, confident or shy, all men were the same when she got up there with their pleasure firmly under her control.

"Is it good?" she asked.

Shirai nodded.

"Tell me how good it is," she demanded.

Shirai hesitated, and then groaned as Kitsune punished him by slowing her pace.

"Tell me," she ordered.

"It's so good," Shirai whined.

Kitsune smiled and resumed her pace.

"How good?"

"The best."

Kitsune felt herself beginning to get light-headed. She leaned down, pushing against his hands until she was hovering over his head.

"Who's the best?" she demanded.

"You," Shirai moaned, his voice thick with need.

Kitsune stopped moving and shook her head. "My name."

"What?" pleaded the clueless Shirai.

"Say my name," Kitsune demanded.

"Kitsune," Shirai called out to her like her name was a lifeline.

Kitsune felt something surge and crackle through her like electricity.

"Who takes care of you?" she asked. "Who gives you what you need?"

"Kitsune!"

Kitsune moaned as if her name were a caress.

"You're never going to forget about me," she cried.

"Never."

"You're going to dream about me until you die," she cried as the world began to spin away. "You're mine!"


	7. Afterglow and Aftermath

She lay against his chest to catch her breath, and listened to the pounding of his heart. After a few minutes she felt his breathing level off. She glanced up to see that Shirai had fallen asleep. She shook her head with a laugh, and pushed herself off the bed. She grabbed her clothes and headed into the bathroom for a quick shower. When she emerged fully dressed, Shirai was still asleep. Deciding to leave him a quick note, she grabbed a pen and paper from the bedside table.

She wrote:

Thanks for the great time, Tiger.

Fresh cherries are always the sweetest. Call me.

Love

Your Queen of the Night.

She applied some fresh lipstick and pressed her lips to the bottom of the page.

She caught the night train back to Hinata: empty except for a few salarymen and people getting off shift work. Kitsune grabbed a free seat, rested her head against the window and dreamed.

She dreamed of a girl walking the streets on a winter's day. A girl waiting weeks for a phone call from the man with kind eyes, professional clothes, and deft fingers. A girl who rounded the corner one winter's day and realized Tokyo wasn't such a big place after all, because there he was, waving; but not for her.

The girl saw a woman with a little girl run across the street, towards the man. The man smiled and reached out for the child. The girl watched the man lift his little girl into the air, laughing. There was a glint of gold on his hand that hadn't been there before. The man drew the woman to him, and kissed her on the forehead. The woman said something. The man laughed, and they left together all three of them.

The other girl realized she'd forgotten the rules as she watched them disappear into the enveloping cold that seemed now to fill her and pierce something deep inside. She turned and walked away, determined never to visit that street corner again. A new rule formed in her heart. Rule number one: never let them close.

"Excuse me, miss. Are you all right?"

Kitsune jerked away from the window. "What?"

A man in a dark suit was looking down at her with concern. "Are you all right?" he asked, gesturing with a handkerchief in his hand.

Kitsune reached towards her cheek and came away wet. She glanced at the handkerchief in the man's hand, and shook her head.

"No thank you," she told him, reaching into her purse. "I have my own."

.

Haitani waved his hand in front of his friend's face.

"Shirai? You in there, bud?"

Shirai flinched. "What is it?"

Haitani looked his friend over, concerned. "You were zoned out man, like miles away."

"Sorry." Shirai shook his head. "Was there something you wanted?" he asked, looking down at his desk.

Haitani pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "All this cram school must be getting to you. You need to loosen up."

"I guess," was the murmured reply.

"Keitaro and I were going to do some karaoke. You want to come?"

"Sorry, Haitani." Shirai shook his head. "I think I'd better just go home."

He pushed away from his desk and grabbed his book bag, leaving his confused friend behind.

"Shirai's not coming?" Keitaro asked later in the hallway, as the two boys struggled and side-stepped past the crush of students.

Haitani shook his head. "You think something's bugging him? He's been weird for the last four days."

"Grades?" Keitaro wondered.

"No worse than usual."

"Trouble at his job?"

"Nah, he loves that store."

"Trouble at home, then?"

Haitani considered, then shook his head. "No way. He'd have told us."

Keitaro scratched his head, then shrugged. "Maybe he's in love," he suggested, brushing past a girl with glasses, twin braids, and an orange 'Salem' sweater.

Haitani laughed. "Him? Where on earth would he find the time?"


	8. How Not to Welcome Your Neighbour

Months later

Kitsune flopped down onto her futon, and contemplated what to do about her new neighbour. It had been an interesting afternoon at Hinata to say the least. Kitsune had been in the change room, preparing for an afternoon soak in the hot spring, when a short man wrapped in a towel came barrelling through the hot spring door. Kitsune stood stunned as the man ran like the devil was chasing him right into her chest. The shock of finding a man anywhere near Hinata, let alone nestled between Kitsune's breasts, was more than enough to knock her off her game.

"Who are you?" she asked.

With an 'eep', the man jumped back and tripped over the laundry basket. He leapt to his feet and ran into the hallway, Naru and Kitsune's underwear clinging to his wet skin.

"Kitsune," Naru shrieked from the hot spring. "There's a peeping tom in the house!"

With a shriek of violated rage, Kitsune joined Naru in hot pursuit; but the guy – whoever he was – always managed to stay one step ahead as the chase led upstairs and then down again, until Su descended upon the fray with her miniature tanks. The exploding firecrackers from the tank cannons were enough to force the intruder outside, where Kitsune and Naru had been waiting to ambush him. If Haruka hadn't shown up at that moment, the three girls would probably still be using her nephew's body for a piñata.

An hour later, the sun was low in the sky, and Kitsune poured herself a sake while she considered the situation. By order of Granny Hina, her grandson was going to be the new apartment manager; and Kitsune was going to be sharing a roof with a man for the first time since leaving Osaka.

Not that she was worried about him. Seeing the best and worst of men clothed and unclothed allowed Kitsune to size up Keitaro Urashima in a matter of seconds. As much as Naru feared otherwise, Kitsune was willing to bet money that unless he was severely tempted, the boy would be too scared to try anything – especially after the chase this afternoon.

No, Kitsune was not worried. She was elated. A shy, retiring, suggestible man had been dropped right in her lap; and he was a Tokyo University student to boot. With a credential like that under his arm the possibilities for even a wimp like that were vast. On top of that, if he was Hina Urashima's grandson, it stood to reason that the guy was in line to inherit the dorm and the land attached. Kitsune licked her lips. What was the best way to get free room and board? Become the landlord's wife, of course. Or his lover.

Kitsune approached the full length mirror on her vanity with a coquettish look.

"Hello, darling," she chirped. "You must be so tired after such a long day at work. Do you want your dinner, or perhaps a bath first?" Her smile turned sultry. "Or would you rather have me instead?"

She burst out laughing. What was she being so serious for? A flash of skin would be enough to leave Keitaro sputtering like a broken engine. She could save the full show for later, and squeeze a few breaks on the rent out of him with a little T and A. What was needed now, though, was a good first impression, one that could wipe away the memory of this afternoon's chase. What a guy like Keitaro needed was someone who could understand him and forgive his missteps. She walked down the hall to the manager's room, and knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" Keitaro asked from the other side.

"It's Kitsune," she called without opening the door. "Could you meet me in my room in five minutes? It's just next door."

"Oh?" The voice sounded surprised. "Okay."

Phase one complete.

Kitsune rushed back to her room and stripped off all her clothes, dropped them in a pile, and put on her favourite black silk kimono with scarlet sakura stitched on the back. She tied it loosely and hurried to the bathroom, turning on the sink. She stuck her head under the tap long enough to dampen her hair, and towelled off before returning to her empty room. She knelt before the pile of clothing with her side facing the door. The stage was set. Once the last player entered, the show could begin.

There came soft rapping on her doorframe.

"Kitsune?"

Kitsune pretended not to hear as she grabbed her panties from the pile of clothes. She waited a few seconds, and then the knocking came again. Kitsune stayed still. Then there came a rushing sound as the door slid open.

Kitsune screamed loud enough to get Keitaro's attention, but not enough to alert the household.

Keitaro took one look at Kitsune and let out his own shriek. "I am so sorry. I didn't-"

"What are you doing here?" Kitsune demanded.

Keitaro looked at the ceiling. "You told me to come here," he sputtered.

"Yeah," Kitsune replied, "and I told you to give me ten minutes."

Keitaro looked at her with knitted brows. "Ten? I thought you said five."

"I said ten. What are you, deaf?" She tried to sound distressed. "I just got back from the bath to change, and then you come barging in without knocking."

"I did knock."

"Well do it louder next time."

Keitaro went back to stammering apologies.

"Never mind." Kitsune waved him through the door. "Just get in."

Keitaro looked at her like she was crazy, but stepped inside. Kitsune shut the door, and pasted on an expression of embarrassment as she scratched her neck.

"Well, I'd hoped to do this under more appropriate circumstances," she said, kicking the pile of clothes to the side of the room, "but this will do all right." She retrieved one of the nicer sake bottles from the collection on the top shelf of her closet. "Welcome to Hinata House, Mister Manager."

Keitaro cracked a nervous smile. "Gee, that's nice of you."

"Not at all," Kitsune dismissed with a wave. "We just need some cups. Hold this." She passed him the bottle and moved to the closet. She reached up until the kimono lifted to reveal her legs.

"Let's see," she said. "I'm pretty sure that they're up here." She fiddled with a few things on the shelf before bending to a lower one. "Maybe here?" she wondered, wiggling her rump.

Keitaro gulped.

Kitsune grinned. She straightened up and grabbed the cups from beside her sake bottles, where she always kept them. "Here they are."

She knelt down and, when he did the same, poured a portion for both of them. She clinked her cup against his. "Cheers."

Keitaro sipped, and gave his cup a thoughtful look. "Smooth."

Kitsune brought the cup to her mouth and wet her lips, like she did with her clients. She knew every flavour of intoxication there was, and pantomiming them was as easy for her as walking. All she had to do now was keep filling his cup like a dutiful woman. She sat close. Not enough to scare him away, but enough for him to feel her nearby. This was no simple feat with a skittish creature like Keitaro, and Kitsune had to adjust herself a couple times when she saw him stiffen. Naru and Motoko seemed to have terrified him of women.

She treated the conversation the same way she treated a first time meeting with a client. Light conversation, funny jokes, and all the while, she pushed the envelope; a slap on the knee as she laughed at a joke, a squeeze of the shoulder as she apologized on Naru's behalf.

"She means well, really," Kitsune said. "She's just protective of us girls. Oh, you're getting low."

She took the bottle and grabbed his hand that still held his cup. She brought it towards her and poured him another drink. She pretended not to see his awestruck look. This boy didn't have a chance.

She ran her fingers over his as she withdrew, and continued the conversation as if nothing had happened. All the while, as the talk continued and the sake flowed, Kitsune kept and ear open for the possibility of interruption. Naru was most likely studying as a way to cool off. At this time of day, Motoko would be practicing on the roof, Su would be tinkering away in her room, and Shinobu would be making dinner; if routine held up. If any one of them got curious about their new housemate and went looking for him, Kitsune knew she'd be in trouble that couldn't be easily explained away. So she listened for any creaks from the floor outside or the slightest hint of a calling voice.

They were three rounds in, and Keitaro was beginning to show signs. His smile became goofier and his speech was starting to slur. Kitsune could also tell that there was something he wasn't being honest about. She wasn't sure what it was; but it became obvious every time that she started asking him about school. He'd start looking away from her and change the subject. No matter. She'd pry the secret from him soon enough.

"You know somethin' Kitsune?" Keitaro asked.

"What?" Kitsune asked, pretending to slur. "What do I know?"

Keitaro snorted. "I have no idea. You could know everything for all I know."

Kitsune giggled despite herself. Keitaro was a fun drunk.

"No, no," she pressed. "You were gonna asked something. What was it?"

"Was I?" Keitaro looked down at his cup as if the answer should be floating in it.

"Yes," Kitsune groaned. "Now what was it?"

"Oh, yeah." He leaned forward. "You're really fun, Kitsune. You're not like the other girls here. Not trying to pu…punch me, or blow me up with tanks, or chop me to sashimi. Naw, you're the only girl, 'sides my aunt, who acted happy to see me. S'nice. Thank you."

"That's sweet," Kitsune replied without pretence. "What about Shinobu?"

"Which one's she again?"

"The little girl with the short hair."

"The other one? Not the scary one?"

"Right."

Keitaro snorted. "She's terrified of me, you noticed? Believes all that talk about me being a molester." He took a drink. "Not that I blame 'em. If I found a strange guy in my tub, I'd freak out too. But come on." He threw his arms out to the side. "Me, a molester? I wouldn't even know where to start."

Kitsune sensed her opportunity. Thank God for drunken honesty. "No?" she asked.

"You kiddin'?" Keitaro asked. "I nearly fainted before I walked in here. You really think I'd know what to do with you even if you wanted me to?" He laughed as if this were the funniest thing on earth.

This was it.

"Should we test it?" she asked.

"Huh?" asked the oblivious Keitaro as he turned his empty cup upside down and shook it.

"Do you think I'm attractive?" Kitsune asked, making sure to inject some uncertainty in her voice.

Keitaro dropped his cup and stared at her as if she'd sprouted wings. "What was that?"

Kitsune looked him dead in the eye. "Attractive. Do you think I'm sexy?"

Keitaro looked over the girl before him in seiza with nothing but a kimono. Smooth, milky flesh gleamed at him from the opening in her robe.

"Course you are," he said, emboldened by liquor. "Silly question," he mumbled.

Kitsune grinned. "That's a relief." She leaned close so he could see down her robe, and drew little circles on the tatami mat. "Cause I think you're kind of cute." She leaned close enough for her breasts to touch his shoulder. "And I'm glad to hear that you don't have a girlfriend."

Keitaro did the opposite of what Kitsune had hoped, and jerked away. He glared at her. "You're teasing me," he said.

Too much, too soon.

"No I'm not. I like you."

Keitaro scoffed. "Sure. Just like those girls in high school. Say they like you, then giggle with their friends about it afterwards." He started to get up. "Well, no thanks."

"Wait." Kitusne grabbed his shoulder. "I'm not lying. How can I prove it to you?"

Keitaro thought for a moment and shrugged. "No idea, but it'd have to be good."

It was all or nothing now. Kitsune kissed him hard. She held him tight and counted to five in her head before withdrawing. She waited for him to gasp in surprise and plunged forward again, thrusting her tongue past his lips. She caressed his tongue, coaxing it into returning the favour.

"Believe me now?" she asked after releasing him.

Keiaro said nothing, but stared at her as that one kiss turned his world upside down.

Kitsune leaned in again, and this time Keitaro was there to meet her. He welcomed her into his mouth, and gave no resistance as she pushed him onto his back. But his hands stayed at his side, unmoving. It made the whole thing seem falser than it was. Kitsune hated it.

"Touch me," she demanded against his lips. "Come on, touch me." Keitaro's hands made a halting journey to her back, running over the ebon silk.

Kitsune lowered one of her hands, trainling her fingers over Keitaro's chest and stomach, down past his belt, and came to rest on his groin. She stroked his hardened length. Keitaro's hands froze at the first tough, his entire body stiffened. Kitsune kept stroking to get him used to her touch, but the moans he had been making earlier turned to protest. He started to pull back, but Kitsune just push forward until Keitaro's head was pinned between her lips and the floor.

Why was he trying to fight this so hard? Everything was goingto plan, and he was getting cold feet now of all times. Not a chance. She'd have him, even if…

Keitaro pushed her up by her shoulder. His eyes were almost black, but they showed none of the drunkenness from before.

"Please stop," he said.

She stared down at him; he up at her. His face was flushed, but the set of his jaw and the imploring in his eyes left no room for doubt. He would not keep going. Kitsune cursed herself. How could she have gotten this carried away? How much repair work would this take? Could it even be repaired?

"Dinner!"

Shinobu's call echoed through the hallway and sent a shock through Kitsune. She recoiled from Keitaro and stared at him from across the floor, without a thing to say.

Keitaro looked at her with wary eyes, searching for intent.

Kitsune burned with shame as she saw once more the purity that she'd seen when Haruka had introduced him to the household, and she felt her body cry out for it.

She stared at the ground. "I'm…" She swallowed. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what…" He eyes alighted upon the sake bottle. "I was drunk and I…I just feel so stupid, and I'm sorry."

The silk felt cold against her skin.

Keitaro got up on wobbly legs. "I think I'd better lie down," he said, and was gone.

Kitsune grabbed her clothes and put them on; anything to get rid of the feeling of vulnerability. The accusations rained down as she put on her panties and buttoned her shirt: slut, vamp, virgin hunter.

Dinner. Company. That would make it go away. Her friends, her dear unsuspecting friends would be downstairs, waiting for her with smiles; and she'd be able to escape the feeling. The one that came when she returned home at midnight with slick thighs.

Kitsune went to the door and rested her head against the frame.

"You stupid bitch."


	9. Olive Branches

"Is the new manager not coming down to dinner?" Shinobu asked, pouring curry from a sauce pan into a serving dish.

Naru paused in the midst of laying chopsticks on the dining table, and turned towards the kitchen.

"Yeah," Kitsune said as she leaned in the dinning room doorway. "He said he wasn't feeling well and wanted to lie down for a while."

"Oh." Shinobu laid the serving dish down, removed a plate and chopsticks from the pile, and returned it to the kitchen with a downcast expression. Naru took in Kitsune's own sagging shoulders, and realized that Shinobu wasn't the only one who was disappointed. Naru wasn't surprised. Years of close living had trained Naru to notice the gleam in Kitsune's eye the moment Haruka had mentioned that her nephew was a Tokyo U student. Kitsune had been the one to invite Naru to live at Hinata House. She had been what kept Naru going when her parents were getting their divorce. She was Naru's best friend, and she loved her with all her heart; but the fact remained, Kitsune was a gold digger.

'She's going to be even more disappointed,' Naru thought.

Once the chase had ended, and Naru had gotten a good look at her unwelcome house guest, she'd been unable to shake the feeling that she'd seen him before. The feeling had haunted her all the way up to her room. It wasn't until she sat down at her desk and saw her textbooks lying on top of it that she realized why. She'd bumped into Keitaro Urashima that very afternoon at her cram school. He was the lunatic that had been shaking hands with everyone after he'd finished his mock exam twenty-seventh from the bottom. Naru laughed. Twenty-seventh from the bottom, he'd be lucky to get into a community college with scores like that. Never mind the most prestigious school in the Pacific Rim.

But how should she deal with it? Naru knew she had to confront Keitaro Urashima for the good of the house. They couldn't have someone staying here under false pretences, even if he was Hina's grandson and Haruka's nephew. But that didn't mean she had to humiliate him. Naru Narusegawa was not heartless, nor did she despise men. If he could just leave quietly, that would be better for everyone.

The conversation at the dinner table flew above her head as she ate in silence, considering her options. Maybe she could use Haruka's teahouse. That would be safer than trying to talk to him on the grounds.

"Are you all right, Naru?" Shinobu asked.

"Huh?" Naru started.

"You haven't said a thing all night."

Naru shook her head. "I'm just thinking about cram school, that's all. She pushed away her empty plate. "I think I'll go for a walk before I go back to studying."

"Don't study too hard," Kitsune said.

Motoko set down her rice bowl. "I agree. It is possible to over exert."

"Don't worry," Naru replied, "I promise you studying will be the furthest thing from my mind."

She gave everyone a wave and headed towards the foyer. Once she arrived at Haruka's teahouse, she realized that it wasn't empty. Through the window, Naru could see Keitaro and his aunt in the front room. Keitaro sat at a table stared down his hands with a slack, sad expression. Haruka puffed on a cigarette as she carried tea for the pair of them.

Haruka handed her nephew a steaming mug, and crushed the cigarette in an ashtray. "I see. I didn't realize that you were still taking entrance exams. I'd never have brought Tokyo U up with the girls if I'd known."

Keitaro took a sip of his tea. "Yeah, and then Mom and Dad made me move out to teach me a lesson. They said I could come back after I became realistic."

"Tough break," said Naru, leaning against the doorframe, startling Keitaro and Haruka. Naru navigated the mass of chairs and tables to where the pair was sitting.

Keitaro stiffened at the sight of her. "Naru! I was…Uh…"

"Don't act so surprised," Naru said. "I knew it, the moment I realized who you were."

Keitaro looked lost. "What?"

Naru grabbed two bunches of her long mane and held them out to the side like pigtails. "Recognise me now? You crashed into me at Kazami Prep." She dropped her hair. Her first instinct was to be angry, to run him off the property; but Haruka was sitting right there, so she contained herself, saying, "As a resident, I think I'm entitled to an explanation."

Haruka glanced at her nephew. "Keitaro?"

Keitaro held up his hand. "It's okay." He stared down at his tea. "I've failed to get into Tokyo University twice. This year isn't looking good either. So my parents gave me a choice." He took a deep drink as if the tea could give him courage. "I came here because this is where I can remember being happiest."

He got up from the table.

"Let me stay the night and I'll be out by morning."

"Where will you go?" Haruka asked.

Keitaro gave his aunt a sad smile and a shrug. "Maybe I'll go home. Maybe it is time to grow up."

As he walked past Naru, she grabbed his shoulder.

"Wait," she said.

"What?"

Naru had grabbed on reflex. There was something so sad in his eyes and his stooped, defeated posture that she couldn't just let him leave that way. It was like his world was ending, and she'd pulled the switch. If she didn't do something about it, she thought she'd cry. But now that she had him, she realized that she had nothing to say.

"If…" She searched for something. "If you got in, then it wouldn't be a lie, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"We need a manager," Naru made up her reasoning as she went along. "You need a home. I'm trying to get in. You're trying to get in. It all evens out." She smiled, feeling proud of her improvisation. "So stay and I'll help you keep the secret."

Keitaro looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth.

Naru grew impatient. "It's a choice between a little lie, and the street," she told him.

Keitaro looked to Haruka who shook her head. "It's up to you," she told him.

Keitaro turned back to Naru. "Why are you being so kind?" he asked.

Naru forgave him his suspicion as she considered their first meeting. When Keitaro said nothing else, she realized that he expected an answer.

'Because you were willing to tell the truth. Because your face reminds me of me when Dad left. Because you look like a puppy with big ears and feet that go everywhere but where they're supposed to go.'

"Because," she told him, "I don't want the responsibility of throwing Granny Hina's son on the street."

.

A week later, Keitaro was – as much to his surprise as anyone else's – still a fact of life at Hinata House. For the first couple of days he had walked around on egg shells, terrified that his clumsiness would reach a fever pitch and have him fall through a rotten patch of floor into the girls' change room; or, even worse, that he would screw up his story or Naru would betray him, and he would be run out of the house as a liar.

Yet the sword of Damocles did not fall. Naru might have acted like she was only just tolerating him, but she remained loyal to her pledge; coming to the rescue whenever someone – usually Kitsune – got too inquisitive about Tokyo U. She still walloped him if she thought he was being stupid or if he tripped on top of someone – usually her or Shinobu – but they have managed some form of détente through studying together. As Naru had observed, both of them were trying to get into university, so it was only logical that they work together. If the last several nights that they had worked from seven o'clock to nearly midnight were any indication of Naru's workload before Keitaro arrived, then it was enough to make him suspect that Naru might have been motivated by loneliness as much as academics. This was, he surmised, the first time that she had had anyone close at hand to share her struggle.

Motoko, on the other hand, had not warmed to him in the slightest. To her, Keitaro existed on a sliding scale of inferiority and perversity. Inferiority earned contempt at his mistakes, and perversion punishment whenever he tripped or let the dirty part of his mind wander too visibly. He had, however, discovered a loophole. So long as he kept to his egg shells whenever Motoko was around, he remained rooted on the inferior side of the scale, rendering him beneath her notice for anything other than cursory interaction. Keitaro would have preferred that they get along; but if it was between being ignored and being beaten, it was an easy choice.

In his favour was the fact that if there were a hundred opportunities to run into people and look like a pervert, there were – by virtue of everyone's busy lives – just as many ways to avoid it. While the younger girls were at school, he couldn't cause them any trouble; and so long as he kept busy with chores and cram school, he managed to create a block of time where the girls were safe from his clumsiness and he was safe from them.

It was warm for an autumn morning. From his seat at the breakfast table, Keitaro listened with a smile through the kitchen window to the sounds of birds chirping as they bathed in puddles and chased each other around trees before their migration to warmer climbs. The day's breakfast had been even better than usual. Keitaro turned his smile to Shinobu as she made her way around the table, collecting plates and humming a tune Keitaro didn't recognise.

Keitaro patted his belly. "You know, Shinobu, you make the best miso soup I've ever had."

Shinobu flushed with pride as she took up the last of breakfast plates and carried them to the counter. "It was nothing, really."

"No, I mean it," said Keitaro with a wave of his hand. "You'll make a fine wife."

There was a crash as Shinobu dropped the plates into the sink. She covered her face and turned away.

Motoko tapped the hilt of her sword with her index finger. "Careful, Urashima."

Su cackled, "Shinobu loves Keitaro, Shinobu loves Keitaro!"

Keitaro looked back and forth between Su and Shinobu. "Well, I didn't mean mine."

Shinobu let out a squeak and ran from the room. Su gave chase, chanting, "Shinobu and Keitaro, sitting in a tree…"

Keitaro sighed and turned back to the table. Naru and Motoko were glaring at him. Even Kitsune, nursing a hangover, gave him a baleful look.

"What?" he asked.

"You mean you don't know?" Naru asked, incredulous.

Keitaro shook his head.

Naru scoffed, got up from the table and bopped him on the head. "I'm going to school."

Motoko shook her head. "You are an idiot, Urashima," she said as she left, apparently deeming him beneath further punishment.

Keitaro stared after the girls without a clue in the world. Was this one of those 'If you don't know I'm not going to tell you' things his father had warned him about? He looked at his watch. He'd agreed to meet Shirai and Haitani for the morning session at their cram school. It would be a long day of studying before he returned home. The good news was that the movers were supposed to arrive today with his things.

When Keitaro had called home and told his father that he'd moved into Hinata House, his father had laughed.

"You never do anything the easy way, do you son?"

"I'm paying my own way," Keitaro had replied. "It's what you and Mom wanted."

"We wanted you to consider your future." Keitaro could hear the suspicion in his father's voice when he had asked, "Did Haru put you up to this?"

"Aunt Haruka had no idea. It's my dream, Dad," Keitaro had replied. "I'll never know if I don't try." His father was always like this.

"You have tried, twice."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Oh, I know what you meant. We both know that this is about the girl."

"It's not just-"

"You know that this world is full of women. You could find one, settle down, and run the bakery with us. It'd be a good life; and all you'd have to do is give up on Tokyo U."

"Would you respect me as much if I did give up?"

There had been a pause on the other end of the line.

"No," his father had said at last. "No, I guess not. Okay, we can have your stuff sent over in a couple days. I'll smooth things over with She Who Must Be Obeyed…Oh hi, Honey."

"What did you call me?" Keitaro had heard his mother shriek so loudly that he was forced to jerk the phone from his ear. The other end of the line had begun to echo with a tongue lashing that would have made a sailor blush.

"Bye Dad," Keitaro had laughed. "Say hi to Kana for me."

.

Off to classes?" Kitsune asked. Her voice was scratchy with her indulgences from the night before. Kitsune was often gone at night. Keitaro had no idea where, but the hangovers she returned with suggested that he should be glad of that. "They sure work you hard at that university."

Keitaro stopped short of opening the front door. "Uh, yeah. Studying for university is hard work." That much, at least, was true. He _was_ studying for university.

Kitsune sauntered over and straightened his collar. "Listen, if I manage to beat this headache, I thought I might stop by the campus when you've finished for the day. Maybe we could get a bite to eat?"

Keitaro backed away and opened the door, if only to put some distance between her and him. "That nice of you, but, uh, I'll probably be studying late."

Kitsune's smile faltered. "Another time, maybe."

Keitaro agreed and headed of down the road. Ever since that incident in her room a week ago, neither he nor Kitsune had spoken of it. As far as he was concerned, they had both been drunk and that was the end of it. Since then, Kitsune had been nothing but friendly. She had been almost as instrumental as Naru in getting him settled into the routine. Along with Naru, she had shown him the grounds, and where all the supplies and important documents were. She'd always engaged him in discussion at dinner. She seemed quite nice, but she was far too interested in his university schedule, which made him more nervous with each lie he was forced to tell.

There was also the fear that she might try something like the incident again. It hadn't been the kiss itself that he had minded. Even now, Keitaro got sweaty palms thinking about the feel of Kitsune's lips and the smell of her perfume. But what happened after…It was too much for a guy who had never received any affection from any woman outside his own family. It was too raw, too animal for him. There had to be more to romance than that, didn't there? Weren't they supposed to become friends, date, or at least know more about each other than their names before they did…that?

The train pulled into the station and Keitaro put it from his mind as he disembarked and made his way to the street a few blocks from his cram school.

.

It was three o'clock, and Naru was already cramming her books into her bag when the bell rang. If she hurried, she'd make the first train and be at Kazami Prep with time to spare. She hurried through the class bow, and bolted from the classroom to the shoe cupboard as fast as propriety would let her.

"Hey, Naru."

Naru slipped on her street shoes and stood upright. "Oh, hi Shiori."

Shiori Hanai smiled at her friend. "A couple of us were going to do some karaoke. Want to come?"

Naru shook her head. "Cram school. Sorry."

"Oh." Shiori shuffled from one foot to the other. "You're there a lot," she said, just as Naru was about to leave.

Naru gave a long-suffering shrug. "Got to work hard to pass Tokyo U's entrance exam." She took a step backwards, itching to reach the train station.

"It's just…" Shiori contemplated her shoes. "We don't see you, anymore, Naru. At all."

Something in Shiori's voice brought Naru away from the train and back into the room. "What?"

"Never mind." Shiori stepped past her. "See you later."

Then she was gone; but her words followed Naru all the way to the train station. It couldn't be true. Next to Kitsune, Shiori was Naru's best friend. They'd known each other ever since they had sat next to each other at their middle school inauguration ceremony. They'd been the star players on their school ping-pong team. They went everywhere together. Why just the other…Naru blinked. She couldn't remember the last time she and Shiori had met outside of school. As she searched the last two years of her memory, she realized that there were none of the karaoke, trips to manga cafes, or weekends spent in the woods that had been the highest delight of her middle school years. What had happened to all that fun? Naru felt her book bag dig into her shoulder as she walked from the station to cram school.

She pulled her usual Salem sweater over her head, and slipped on her glasses. She hated looking so dowdy in public, but if it meant no boys would distract her then it was worth the blow to her sense of fashion.

"Hey Naru!"

She jumped. No one knew her here.

Keitaro came running up to her from the school entrance. "I thought that was you."

"Oh, uh, hi." Naru almost laughed at herself for forgetting that her landlord went to the same cram school. They'd yet to run into each other due to their schedules. She searched for something else to say, but came up with nothing. She made to reach for the door, but Keitaro opened and held it for her.

Naru nodded her thanks, pleased to note as she entered that there was more to her landlord's character than ineptitude and perversion.

"Keitaro!" Naru turned with Keitaro to see a pair of guys wearing glasses – one tall and skinny, the other short and chubby – waving from down the hallway to their left.

"Friends of mine," Keitaro explained. "Ronins like me. We met here, and misery loves company I guess."

Recognition flickered. "So you're the Flop Out Three that we keep hearing about: the ronins who keep trying for the hardest universities and keep failing."

Keitaro gave a miserable chuckle. "I didn't know we had a nickname."

"Missed you at lunch break," the skinny guy said to Keitaro as the pair neared.

"Wanted to stop by the library," Keitaro replied.

Naru felt like a third wheel. So she said, "I'll see you later, then."

The two newcomer's heads snapped in her direction, staring at her as if she were a gazelle escaped from the zoo.

"Keitaro," asked the tall one, "who is this?"

"Oh." Keitaro pointed at Naru. "Shirai, Haitani, meet Naru Narusegawa. We live together, ow!"

Naru dug her elbow into his gut. Could the idiot have picked a worse way to put it?

"Live together?" Shirai and Haitani shrieked.

Keitaro flinched in realization as his friends pounced on him. "No, no. Not like that. We live in the same building."

Haitani was having none of it. "Yeah right. What was that, then? A Freudian slip?" He zeroed in on Keitaro seeming to forget that Naru and Shirai were there. "Seriously, how far have you gone? And why didn't you tell us?"

That sleazy little...Naru cracked her knuckles. "Keitaro?"

Keitaro jumped. "Yes?"

Naru clenched her first. "Set them straight or I will."

Keitaro let out a squeak and turned to Haitani. "It's true. We just live in the same building. I hardly know her. She's a complete stranger to me."

Naru rolled her eyes. "You don't have to be that emphatic about it."

Keitaro pushed past his friends. "Let's get to class."

Realizing the time, Haitani and Shirai followed. Naru groaned and prepared to head down the opposite hallway to her own classroom.

She made it two steps before her sensitive ears heard Haitani say, "Should have given Kitaro more credit. Even he'd have to be desperate to chase after a nerdy girl like that. Total dog."

A red haze descended over Naru's vision. "What was that?" she shouted as she spun around.

The trio turned with slack jawed quivering looks. Keitaro ducked for cover out of instinct, leaving his friends to fend for themselves. Naru charged with a roar, cocking back her arm.

"I'll show you who's a dog!"

She let fly, clipping Haitani on the chin, and sending him flying into a row of lockers. Heedless of the gathering crowd, Naru stalked past Shirai cowering on his knees, and over to Haitani's felled body. She pulled the elastics out of her hair and took off her glasses. She jerked Haitani up by the collar to look at her as she gave her hair a flourish.

"Just who do you think you are?" she demanded as Haitani cringed before her. "A self-absorbed asshole like you would be lucky to be noticed by a girl half as pretty as me." She pulled him up until they were nose to nose. "Now, I think you have something to say to me."

Haitani shivered as he stared into her burning eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Louder."

Haitani's legs went slack. "I'm sorry!"

Naru dropped Haitani against the locker. She turned to Shirai. "Treat girls with respect or you'll end up like your friend here." She waved a warning finger at all the guys in the crowd. "And that goes for all of you too." She cast a disgusted look at Keitaro's cowering form and pushed through the crowd. Fighting was bad enough, never mind being late for class.

"That was a bit much," Keitaro said when they were walking home.

"Insulting a girl's looks is a low blow," Naru replied without remorse. "As if we don't have the right to dress down when we want to."

Keitaro said nothing for a while, and then, "Well, I think that you look good, glasses or no glasses."

Prickles of embarrassment ran across Naru's skin. "Idiot," she muttered.

Keitaro caught sight of her expression and started to back pedal. "No, no. I just meant-"

Naru raised a weary hand. "Forget it."

They walked in quiet together, watching the merchants of Hinata close up for the night. They rounded a corner and came upon a café with a crowd in front of it.

"Hey!" Keitaro pointed. "One night Rakugo show. Let's check it out."

Naru didn't even slow down. "We should go home and study."

Keitaro stared at her. "After all the studying we did today? Don' you ever do anything else?"

_We don't see you anymore, Naru_.

"What?"

"Come on," Keitaro wheedled. "You have to have some fun, some time."

Naru felt her book bad dig a little deeper into her shoulder. She looked down the dim street towards Hinata House, then at the warm lights of the café, and the coaxing face of her companion. She hoisted her bag further up her shoulder.

"Sure," she said. "Why not?"


	10. Motoko's Law

"And so, Akechi Mitsuhide surrounded the temple where Oda Nobunaga was staying. Name the temple and the date."

Shinobu Maehara bit her cheek.

Keitaro smiled. "Take your time."

After a month of walking around on egg shells, Hinata House was at last beginning to feel like a home. So he had felt flattered when the house's resident chef had asked him to help her study. Often, she was too nervous around him say much other than to ask him how his day had gone, and to tell him that dinner was ready. She almost never said anything about herself; but according to Naru that was just the way the little chef was: punctual, conscientious, and polite to a fault, but she never shared what she was feeling with anyone.

When Shinobu first asked, Keitaro had been terrified. If he slipped up, she might realize that he wasn't really a university student, and the lie that he and Naru Narusegawa were keeping between themselves would be exposed. So he had been relieved to discover that the subject she had wanted help with was history. Keitaro might not have been a genius, but even he could manage to read names, dates, and places from a textbook.

To his surprise, Shinobu's textbook, with its simple language and its approach to telling history like a story, had been easier for Keitaro to understand than his own. He made a note to ask her if he could borrow it when Naru wasn't around. If Naru caught him studying with a middle school text book, he'd never hear the end of it.

"The temple was called Honno-ji, right?" Shinobu looked up Keitaro for confirmation.

"Right, but what about the date?"

He watched Shinobu's lips purse as she tried to puzzle it out. It was kind of fun to teach somebody.

"What are you thinking about in there?" Naru asked, tapping him on the head.

"Nothing," Keitaro replied. Yes it was fun teaching Shinobu, even if Naru insisted that he have a chaperone while he did it. Naru may have agreed to keep Keitaro's secret, but that didn't mean she trusted him to teach Shinobu correctly.

"And besides," she had added, "someone has to make sure that you stay on the straight and narrow around her."

That one had hurt. Even a month later, Keitaro still wasn't sure where he stood with Naru. The time they spent studying together was a perfect example. One minute she could be going over a question with him, giving him almost motherly encouragement. The next she could be gnashing her teeth, incredulous that even a dim bulb like him (her words) couldn't remember Newton's laws of motion. Though, he was getting pretty good at remembering what happened when a force met an object at rest. Naru gave him a practical demonstration every time she caught him staring at her legs.

For some reason, these lessons in physics seemed to occur more often when other girls were in the room, especially Shinobu. After some thinking, however, Keitaro assumed that this was because his chances of unfortunate accidents went up by a factor of ten for every additional girl in the room. Motoko was the lone exception to what Keitaro had termed Naru's Law of Protective Retribution; but that was probably because Motoko was governed by her own much faster acting law, the Law of Divine Vengeance.

"June…It was in June, 1582."

Keitaro blinked. "Sorry, what was that?"

Shinobu looked up from the table towards him. "The date. It was in June of 1582, right?"

"Oh, uh…" Keitaro flipped through the textbook.

Naru rolled her eyes. "Yes, Shinobu. But can you remember the exact day?"

Shinobu squirmed in concentration, almost humming as she tried to force the number to the surface; but nothing came. She looked at the others with dejection.

"I can't do it." Her voice cracked.

"Hey, now," Keitaro said, hoping to stem a flood of tears. "You got it within the ball park, and that's a good start. How about I make us all some tea?" he asked. Maybe the distraction would keep Shinobu happy, and keep Naru from launching him to the moon.

To his surprise, Naru smiled at him for the first time that day.

"That's a great idea," she said. "Do you need any help?"

Keitaro waved her off. "I think I've learned where everything is now," he said, getting up.

He bent towards Shinobu to brace his foot, but his foot slipped on the tatami mat and he went flying into the girl with a yelp. He shook himself and realized that he'd pinned Shinobu to the ground. The young girl turned bright red as she stared up at him.

"Get off her you idiot!" Naru jumped to her feet and moved to pull Keitaro off the girl.

"It was an accident." Keitaro rolled off Shinobu, and brought his arms up to protect his head. "You saw."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you get to lie on top…"

Naru's expression turned fearful. Keitaro turned to see what she was staring at and felt his blood run cold. Motoko Aoyama was standing in the doorway to the manager's room, brandishing her sheathed katana. Time seemed to stand still. Keitaro began to prepare his death haiku as contortions of rage ravaged the kendo girl's classical features. In a flash, her sword was out and Motoko's Law of Divine Vengeance sent Keitaro flying head first into the opposite wall.

Motoko sheathed her sword. "Touch her again, and I'll have your head." And she was gone.

Naru turned to Shinobu who was prodding Keitaro to see if he was still alive.

"Get the first aid kit from the kitchen," Naru said. "The manager and I need to have a talk."

Once Shinobu was gone, Naru peeled Keitaro off the wall.

"Hey." She gave him a cuff on the cheek. "Wake up."

"Did anyone get the number of that truck?" Keitaro asked, with unfocussed eyes.

Naru smirked. "No, but I'd say she's got yours. You'd better apologize to her. You don't want her on your bad side for too long."

"She has a good side?"

"Idiot. She's part of a long line of demon hunters going back to the Kamakura period. Those hits you've been taking are novice moves. You don't want to see the master level."

Keitaro shuddered. "If you're trying to scare me, you've succeeded."

"Better you should find out about her skills this way now than learn the same way all those other guys learned."

"Other guys?"

Naru looked embarrassed. "You've probably noticed that Motoko is quite, well, pretty. And…Look just don't get any ideas. Let's get going."

She dragged him to the roof and found Motoko performing _men_ strikes. Her eyes scowled off in the distance as she confronted some imagined evil with her sword.

"Keitaro quit hiding behind me," Naru said. "Are you a man or a mouse?"

"Mouse," Keitaro replied, already on his way back downstairs.

Naru grabbed him by the ear. "Get back here or I'll make you do the talking."

Keitaro fell in line. Naru mounted the last of the stairs.

"Motoko," she asked, "can we talk?"

Motoko said nothing, but considering that she could have summoned a whirlwind to throw them off the roof, silence seemed the closest to an invitation that they were going to get.

"Motoko," Naru tried again. "I really think we ought to make peace over this. After all, it was just a mistake."

Motoko stopped swinging. Her eyes burned holes into Naru before coming to rest on Keitaro.

"I refuse," she said. "It is not right for a man to manage a dorm where vulnerable girls reside. But since I am in the minority, I will abide. For now." She pointed her sword at Keitaro. "Take care Urashima."

At that moment, Keitaro just felt happy that his execution had been stayed. He bowed to Motoko and turned to leave; but his toe caught on an uneven board and he fell, grabbing for anything to support him. Naru screamed as Keitaro grabbed a hold of her skirt and brought it down with him.

"Keitaro," Naru shouted, "You id–"

"Ur…a…shi…ma."

The samurai girl's lips pulled back in a snarl. "Give an inch and they take a mile." She raised her sword to the fore. The very air around her seemed to distort into shimmering waves "How can the young ones in our care sleep soundly when we are haunted by such a beast?"

Naru was so terrified by the change in her friend that she forgot to be angry at Keitaro as she jumped out of the way and sought cover behind the clothes line. Keitaro curled into the fetal position, the offending skirt still clutched in his fist.

Motoko stared down at him in contempt as he lay cowering. "I will not soil my blade with the blood of a cowardly lecher." She retrieved a pair of bokkens that were leaning on the balcony railing. She threw one at Keitaro's feet, and handed Naru her skirt.

"We will let honour settle this. If you can defeat me in combat, you may be manager. If I defeat you, then you will begone from this place n'er to return. Fair?"

Keitaro recovered enough of his wits to sit up and stare at the woman that would be his executioner. "Fair? You'll nail me."

"Pick up that sword or declare yourself a coward before all present."

Keitaro came to his feet and held up his weapon. The wooden blade wavered back and forth as tremors wracked every inch of his body.

With a battle cry, Motoko swung downward and met nothing but air as Keitaro turned tail and ran. Once again, his instincts proved bad as he ran not towards the stairs, but towards the railing separating the balcony from the roof. He vaulted over the railing onto the rooftop. Motoko sprang from her place on the balcony, flipped once and came to a graceful landing in Keitaro's path.

"Nowhere to run, coward."

Keitaro yelped and threw down his sword. Instead of hitting the ground it sailed forward and caught Motoko's ankle Motoko stumbled and tumbled down the steep roof.

Naru screamed as Motoko rolled towards the edge.

Keitaro dove forward and caught Motoko's wrist. They tumbled together until Motoko was dangling over the hot spring, Keitaro's grip the only thing keeping her from the ground. The rain gutters creaked in protest as Keitaro braced himself against them, trying to hold onto Motoko.

"Let me go." Motoko shouted.

"You'll fall."

"I'd rather risk the hot spring than be saved by a weakling like you."

"Idiot!" Keitaro started to slide forward. "Don't be so damned stubborn."

"How dare–"

"Because I'm the manager. Now climb up or we both die."

Motoko's free hand rose up to grab his shoulder and she pulled herself up to grip the rain gutter. With a grunt, she climbed back onto the roof.

Keitaro sighed. "That was–"

With one last creak, the ancient rain gutters gave up the battle. Keitaro's hand shot out to grab the roof as his ledge gave way. His terrified eyes ratcheted to Motoko's shocked ones.

"Save me."

Motoko stared down like she was watching something far off as she held the fate of the man she'd tried to kill; the man who'd saved her life. She reached down and pulled him up with one effortless tug. Keitaro looked down at the ground far below before turning to Motoko with glassy eyes.

"The cherry blossoms born of the day fall at night. All things are fleeting. Keitaro Urashima," he whispered rhythmically before fainting on top of Motoko.


End file.
